across the street

i know these guys…thin as the needles they stick in their arms…between toes…why hide the obvious…

skin weathered…beat by sun and wind and cold and rain… and America…

there is no downtown loft…nor suburban ranch to rest disheveled thoughts…no tonic to relieve this pain…that past…the ever-present here and now…screaming out nothing…absolutely nothing…words stopped long ago…

daily pacing by water fountains…sleeping in bathroom stalls…refuge in the air-conditioned nightmare…discarding all the ambitions and hopes they once had…only to realize that Horatio Alger was full of shit all along…Ayn Rand was a fake…and Dale Carnegie was worth nothing more than a hundred dollar bottle of wine…Do we have a deal…

and the waiting and the still more waiting for nothing more than the big sleep…to dream for eternity…leaving all and sundry far behind…farther still…gone…gone…gone…

hours pass like boots dragging in mud…looking for the next fix…and the one after that and the one after that…

oh Buddha…had they only known…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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